He made his way down the stairs and along the corridor to his small apartment. It had been over three years since the funeral, three years since Valerie had left him and he'd decided to resign from the force. He'd failed—both in his personal life and at work. He'd dropped the ball. His wife had suffered and an innocent man had paid with his life. How could he ever forget that?
He'd hoped being alone would help him work through his guilt, would help him put the past behind him and allow him to get on with his life. But he was beginning to think that was never going to happen. Ted had told him he needed time to heal, but in three years the wounds still felt fresh.
He reached inside the door and flipped on the kitchen light. The station had originally been designed to house two rangers, with living quarters for each—one built into the stone base of the tower and another one above a detached garage about thirty yards across a small compound—but lean budget times allowed for only one ranger to be assigned. Jake had chosen to live in the apartment within the tower. While the actual living area was no larger than the quarters above the garage, the tower housed the main kitchen, laundry facility and a fireplace. Besides, it had just made sense that he be close to the station's elaborate communications systems, located in the tower, in the event of an emergency.
Setting the glass in the sink, he headed for the bedroom, feeling as though he could sleep for twelve hours straight. But despite his fatigue, sleep eluded him.
Maybe it was a good thing he would be leaving the mountain. Maybe he needed to test the waters a bit, see what it was like to be back in civilization again, to be among friends, eat a little junk food and maybe even drink a little too much—at least for a little while. While leaving wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to, he should try to make the best of it. Besides, he hadn't been able to say no to Ted.
Los Angeles police detective Lieutenant Ted Reed was like a brother to him and if it hadn't been for Ted, Jake wasn't sure he would have made it through those terrible months after Ricky's death and the divorce from Valerie. The two of them had grown up in a neighborhood in Los Angeles where it paid to know who your friends were and who you could trust to watch your back—and Ted had protected his on more than one occasion. Somehow the two of them had managed to survive the poverty and the violence, the dysfunction and the disadvantages, even though it hadn't been easy. They'd made the decision to enter the police academy together and had supported each other throughout the ten years they'd served on the force. The hard times had forged a permanent bond between them. It made them survivors.
It had been almost awkward when Ted asked him to serve as best man at his wedding. But he understood. As men and as cops they had learned to play their cards close to the vest and keep emotions to themselves. Ted hadn't told him much about the woman he was marrying but Jake could hear the emotion in his friend's voice. The feelings were there—powerful and deep—and it wasn't necessary for them to go through the uncomfortable ritual of talking about them.
The wedding was in a couple of days and Jake planned on heading down the mountain in the morning after he got back from checking the trailhead. While Eagle's Eye was remote, he was never really alone. The area wasn't without inhabitants. There was Claybe Fowler, his nearest neighbor in the Forest Service, who manned the Cedar Canyon Ranger Station located eight thousand feet below at the base of the mountain. And during Jake's regular trips to Vega Flats, its motley crew of residents had all become his friends. Of course, during the summer months there were hikers and mountain bikers, campers and even a handful of hunters and fishermen about, and with the help of the tower's state-of-the-art communications and computer system, he also managed to keep in touch with the outside world. He talked to Ted, his co-workers, his mom and his sister on a regular basis via his ham radio and his cell phone, when he could catch a signal. The satellite dish gave him more television channels than he could count and, of course, there was the radio and Jane—Dear Jane.
So, while isolated, he hadn't exactly been alone the last three years. And while he didn't relish the thought of going back to L.A., he owed it to Ted.
"Go to sleep," he ordered himself, rolling onto his side and pulling the comforter around him close.
He let his mind drift, thinking back over the stories he'd listened to tonight on the radio. He wondered just how many of them were real and how many were made up just to get on the air.
He thought of Dear Jane's soft purring voice. Would he make up something just to get on the air with her? Or would he need to? If he were to tell her about Valerie, about Ricky and how responsible he felt for his death, what would her advice to him be?
* * *
"I know you're there Jane, I can hear you breathing. Oh Jane, dear Jane, it's okay, you don't have to say anything—you got plenty said on the radio tonight. It's my turn now. You can listen to me for a change.
"Did you get my letter? If you read it you will know it won't be long now. I'll find you. I'll find you and the—"
Her hand shook as she flipped the call button, cutting off the caller. The ringing in her ears was almost deafening and her heart beat so fast in her chest it was almost painful.
"Hey, you okay?"
"Hmm…wh-what?" She looked up into Dale's kind, round face. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Why?"
"I don't know, you look a little pale." Her producer regarded her for a moment, his gaze narrowing. "That was him, wasn't it? It was that psycho again. He used the call-in line, the son of a—"
"He just wanted to let me know he'd been listening."
Dale reached for the telephone receiver.
"No, please," she said, stopping him with a hand on his.
"We need to report this."
"It was just more of the same stuff as before, just him getting his jollies—nothing new."
"But the cops are going to want to know."
"And I'll tell them, I promise. Just not tonight. I'm exhausted and they'll keep me here answering questions until dawn."
He picked up the phone, offering it to her. "Call them."
"He's on tape, they can listen in the morning."
"They told you to report every time he called."
"I will, I promise," she insisted, taking the phone and lowering it onto the cradle. "First thing tomorrow."
Dale drew in a deep breath and gave her a skeptical look. "If you don't, I will."
"I will," she vowed with mock seriousness, raising a hand. "Scout's honor."
Dale made a face, and pushed away from the desk. "I got a bottle in my desk drawer. Feel like a drink?"
"No, that's okay. I've got a long drive home."
"Well, if you change your mind," Dale said, heading for the door, "give me a shout."
"I'll do that."
At the door Dale stopped and turned back to her. "And let me know when you're ready to leave. I don't want you walking out to your car by yourself."
She nodded. "Yes, Mother."
Dale snorted and shook his head. "You amaze me, sitting there so cool and calm. Doesn't it bother you knowing that nut's out there somewhere?"
"Sure it bothers me. But you said it yourself, he's a nut and more than likely he's probably harmless," she said, feeling her throat grow tight. "Although I admit, I'll feel a lot better when the police have him behind bars."
Dale smiled. "Believe me, we all will."
She laughed, but as Dale pulled the studio door closed behind him she let the smile fade from her lips. She glanced down at her hands, balling them into tight fists to stop them from shaking. She felt sick—shaky and sick—and it would take more than one drink for her to forget that horrible voice over the line.
"Don't think about it. Just don't think about it," she mumbled aloud.
She closed her eyes, pressure throbbing painfully at her temples, and squeezed her fists even tighter. Her nails bit into the flesh of her palms but she didn't care—anything to stop the shaking.
Who was she kidding? She wouldn't be able to get down enough alcohol
to get that raspy, mocking voice out of her head. Besides, she had a client coming in early tomorrow. It was hard enough balancing a private counselling practice with a nightly radio program without throwing a hangover into the mix. Still, it might be worth a try. She could call her partner to cover for her and lose herself in a couple of bottles of wine.
She rubbed her fists against her temples, slowly massaging. If only Dale knew how terrified she really was—if only everyone did. But she was determined no one ever would. She was not going to allow herself to give in to the fear—she didn't dare. Keeping up a front was the only way she could cope. Besides, maybe if she pretended long enough the awful fear really would go away…only that hadn't happened yet.
When the letters first started showing up in the mailbag eight months ago, she hadn't been too concerned. After all, she received so much mail at the station it was only natural there would be a few crackpots in the bunch. But after several weeks, when the letters turned to phone calls, and the phone calls turned threatening, she'd gotten very concerned—and so had everyone else.
How foolish she had been in the beginning—and how naive. But he'd seemed so harmless at first, she'd honestly thought she might be able to talk some sense into the guy. She had taken those early calls, listening as he rambled on and on in that mechanical-sounding voice about why he believed they were meant to be together and why she should accept it. She never should have taken those calls, never should have listened. The calls had grown increasingly hostile and she was never going to forget those words or the images they left in her brain.
"I'm not going to think about it. I'm not going to think about it," she insisted, her hands starting to shake again.
"You say something?"
"Huh? What?" She jumped violently, startled by the sudden appearance of the station's young intern at the door. "N-no."
The young man shrugged, looking confused. "Uh, Dale said I should walk you out to your car. You ready to go?"
"Oh, right, y-yes." Her throat was tight and she cleared it with a small cough. "I'm…I'm ready."
She felt foolish following the young man down the corridor and into the elevator, but if the truth be known, she was grateful not to be alone. Of course, there was just the rest of the night to think about—the drive home, the empty house, the long hours until dawn. She would hear every noise, jump at every bump, wonder about every shadow—just as she had every night for the last eight months. It wasn't much better once she finally did drift off to sleep. Dreams filled with shadows and danger and dark, looming figures were even worse.
The elevator doors slid open, the sound echoing through the nearly deserted parking garage. And the hollow sound of their footsteps along the concrete made it feel even emptier.
"I like your car," the intern said as the automatic door locks opened with a chirp.
"Thanks," she said, eyeing the interior of the SUV carefully. When she was sufficiently sure no one was hiding inside, she slid onto the seat. "And thanks for walking me down. I really appreciate it."
"Not a problem. Take care," he said, raising his hand in a wave as he started back for the elevator. "Hasta."
"Yeah, hasta," she mumbled, slamming the door and quickly triggering the doors to lock again.
She hated living like this. It wasn't fair, her life was not her own anymore—and all because of that…that creep. He was out there somewhere, doing what he wanted, going where he wanted to go, no restrictions, no fears. She was the one living in a prison, constantly looking over her shoulder, afraid of what might be around the corner, and she resented it.
"And that's exactly what he wants," she concluded aloud into the silence of the car—which only added to the insult. He wanted to terrify her and he'd managed to do that very effectively.
Frustrated, she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, punching at the radio and turning up the volume to full blast. Maybe he was out there. Maybe he was watching right now—and she almost wished he was. If he wanted to see her cower and hide, he would be disappointed. She may be frightened, her nerves may be frayed and on edge, but he wasn't going to get the best of her—no way in hell.
* * *
"Finally! The mountain man has arrived" Ted made his way through the small cluster of people milling about in the church foyer, waiting for the rehearsal to begin. With arms outstretched, he grabbed Jake in a bear hug. "Am I glad you're here!"
"I'm late, I'm sorry," Jake apologized, returning Ted's hug. "The 405 was like a parking lot. I didn't think traffic would be so bad this time of day."
"Now I know you've been up on that mountain too long," Ted said, pulling back. "This is L.A., have you forgotten? Traffic is bad here—period! It doesn't matter what time it is." He rested a hand on Jake's shoulder and took a deep breath. "You've got to help me." He ran a hand over his stomach. "Honest to God, I think there are butterflies in there. I'm not cut out for this."
Jake couldn't resist the urge to smile. Ted's tall, lanky build and sun-bleached hair may have had him looking more like a California surfer than a seasoned cop, but that only proved just how deceiving looks could be. Typically restrained and self-controlled, not much ever ruffled his feathers, and even if it did, you would never know. But he definitely looked worse for wear now.
"Don't tell me you're nervous. A tough cop like you?"
"Felons I can handle. What I need is protection from the wedding planner."
Jake frowned. "What's a wedding planner?"
"Not what—who," Ted clarified, turning slowly and gesturing to a small, well-dressed woman chatting with a group of people in the church. "Although, if you ask me, she's more like the wedding Nazi."
Jake turned to look at the woman. "That tiny little lady? You're afraid of her?"
"Don't let her size fool you," Ted warned. "I've known prison guards who could take lessons from her."
"Want me to go over there and rough her up?"
Ted made a face. "Funny, very funny."
Jake laughed. "Well, calm down, the cavalry has arrived. I'll protect you if…" He glanced at the petite woman and laughed again. "If Minnie Mouse over there decides to get mean."
Ted laughed then too. He gave Jake's shoulder a good-natured pat and his smile faded just a little. "But I admit, I do feel a whole lot better now that you're here. I miss having you around."
Jake's face grew sober. Ted knew better than anyone this trip to L.A. wasn't going to be easy for him. "Maybe I've got a few butterflies too."
"No reason to," Ted assured him. "We're all friends here and everyone is really anxious to see you. They all miss you."
"You think so?"
"I know so."
"Yeah, well," Jake said with a shrug. "There's no way I was going to miss your wedding."
"I was banking on that. I don't think I could get through all this without you," Ted confessed. He looked at the activity happening around them and shook his head. "Just look—all this fancy, foofy wedding stuff—it isn't me. What am I doing here?"
Jake's gaze narrowed. "You're not having any…second thoughts, are you?"
"About marrying Cindy?" Ted shook his head. "No way. She's…well, she's…perfect! You're going to love her."
"As long as you do, that's all that's important."
"Oh, I do," Ted assured him, gesturing to the activity around them again. "Enough to put up with all this."
Jake looked around then too and nodded. "Must be true love."
Ted started to smile, but spotting the diminutive wedding planner headed their way, suddenly bolted to attention.
"We're starting in five minutes, boys," she declared as she breezed by. "Find a seat inside."
Ted's gaze followed as she passed, then slid to Jake. "You heard her, we better get moving."
Jake chuckled as they turned and started into the church. "But aren't we missing the bride? When do I get to meet this woman who has enticed you to endure all of this?"
"I don't know, she should have been here by now…." Ted's words t
railed off when he spotted the car pulling up to the curb outside. "There she is. Come on, I want you to meet her."
Jake followed Ted back outside and across the walk to where two women stepped out of the parked car—one brunette, one blond. In one smooth motion, Ted swept the brunette up in his arms and into his embrace.
"I take it this is the bride," Jake said when he'd reached the tall blonde standing by the car.
"Either that, or Ted has some explaining to do," she commented dryly.
A sudden chill had the hair on the back of his neck standing up straight. Something registered in his brain, something so…so peculiar it left him feeling a little unsettled. Turning to the woman beside him, he studied her as he extended a hand.
"I don't believe we've met. I'm Jake Hayes."
"Kristin Carey," she mumbled, ignoring his hand and slipping a pair of sunglasses over her eyes. "So when is this thing supposed to start?"
He'd admit to having been rebuffed by a woman a time or two in his life, but never quite as resoundingly as that. "According to Minnie Mouse over there," he said, nodding to the wedding planner, "in five minutes."
"Minnie Mouse?"
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "Just a joke." But from the look on her face, she obviously didn't think it a very funny one.
"Cin," she said, pushing past him and calling to the woman in Ted's arms. "I think the wedding planner is trying to get your attention."
But Ted was already pulling his bride-to-be in their direction.
"Here she is, Jake," he announced. "This is Cindy."
"Cindy," Jake said in a low, formal voice.
Reeling a bit from the rather rude encounter with the icy blonde, he wasn't sure what kind of reception to expect from Cindy. Should he try to shake her hand, bow or just stand there like a dope? But Cindy didn't seem to have any doubts. She completely surprised him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Night Talk Page 2
